Trail of Lies (5 page)

“It's easy,” Craig assured her, leading them outside. “The dogs are used to running one route here, and they'll go that way. All you have to do is guide them.” He pointed to the handlebar. “You hold this and yell when you want the dogs to turn or stop.”

“Do you know the commands?” Steve asked.

George shook her head slightly. “I thought everyone said
mush
to get them started, but you yelled
hike.”

“Everybody uses something different at the
beginning. What's important are
whoa, gee,
and
haw,”
Craig explained. “You know what those mean, don't you? ‘Stop,' ‘right,' and ‘left.' ”

George nodded.

“You can ride the runners,” Steve said, pointing to the back of the sled. “The only time you have to get off is going up a hill. Then you run behind the sled.”

“And you said it was easy.” George took her position behind the team, grabbed the handlebar, and released the brake.

“Hike, Thunder!” she cried.

With a jerk, the team was off. Soon George and the dogs disappeared up the trail.

When they came back a short time later, she was grinning from ear to ear. “It's wonderful! Almost like flying!”

Craig checked the dogs and tightened one of the neck lines. “Your turn, Nancy,” he said.

Nancy stepped up, grabbed the handlebar, and released the brake. “Hike!” she called.

The dogs surged forward, easily pulling the heavy sled. Thunder, the lead dog, turned his head, as though checking the other dogs' progress, and Nancy heard him bark a short command. In response one of the two wheel dogs, the ones closest to the sled, moved away from his partner.

“Gee!” Nancy shouted the command to turn right as the trail curved. Thunder led the team
around the corner. The cold wind drew tears from Nancy's eyes, but she barely noticed. Her pulse was pounding with exhilaration.

All too soon the barn was in sight again, and Nancy had to stop the team with a loud “Whoa!”

“You and George were great!” Craig said enthusiastically. “You're natural mushers.”

Nancy laughed, breathless with delight. Lindsay was right. One taste of racing a dog sled, and she was hooked.

“We're going to practice at the local track,” Craig said. “Do you two want to come along?”

“Try to keep me away!” George challenged.

The girls helped Steve and Craig load the dogs and the sled into the back of Craig's truck.

“You'd better bring your van, just in case,” Craig told Steve. “The truck's running now, but I don't guarantee it.”

Steve invited George to ride with him, and it was clear he wanted to be alone with her, so Nancy climbed into the rickety old truck with Craig.

The drive to the track took only a few minutes. When they pulled into the parking lot, Craig groaned. “Uh-oh, trouble. Steve's not going to be too happy about this.” He climbed out of the truck and slammed the door. Nancy got out on her side and came around the back of the truck.

Not far away Amanda and Lindsay were busily unloading a team of dogs from a utility van. Though Lindsay was dressed in a practical navy blue parka with heavy down stuffing, Amanda wore ski pants and a hooded jacket made of beaver fur. They soon spotted the new arrivals.

“Oh, look, it's the great Steven Wilcox,” Amanda said loudly as Steve got out of his van and went over to help Craig. She straightened, calling after him, “It won't do you any good to practice, you know. You don't have a chance of winning the Derby.”

Steve kept his head bent over the dogs' harnesses and remained silent.

“Anyone who treats dogs the way you do deserves to lose,” Amanda taunted him.

This time Steve raised his head. Nancy saw his lips thin in anger. Amanda's words had hit their mark.

He still didn't respond, though. He turned to George. “Want a ride on the sled?” he offered. Nancy wondered if that was his way of goading Amanda. She hoped Steve wasn't just using George to make his former girlfriend jealous.

George agreed, casting a sidelong glance at Nancy, then helped Craig and Steve unload the sled. With their team harnessed, Lindsay and Amanda moved to the other side of the track.

“You two don't need to hang around—George
and I can bring the dogs back,” Steve said, pointedly dismissing Craig and Nancy. He reached into his pocket and handed Craig his key ring. “Why don't you take the van?”

“Sure thing,” Craig said quickly. Nancy was taken aback—she had thought they'd stay to watch Steve practice. She said nothing, though, as she and Craig walked back to the van. Craig unlocked the door and let Nancy in first.

“This is luxury!” Craig said, climbing in the other side. He switched on the engine. “I wish I could afford one.”

Nancy settled back in her plush seat. “Your truck is more practical,” she pointed out.

“That's true.” Then Craig changed the subject. “It sure looks like Steve's interested in George.”

“I think it's mutual,” Nancy told him.

“I thought they wanted some time together, so I didn't say anything when Steve got rid of us,” he said. “I hope you weren't offended. Steve doesn't mean any harm, but he can be tactless sometimes.”

“You're a good friend to him,” Nancy said. She paused for a second. “Craig, what did Amanda mean when she said Steve mistreated the dogs?”

Craig's voice was harsh. “She spends too much time with Lindsay Dunning, and Lindsay's a fanatic about her dogs. She really
coddles those animals. She won't have whips anywhere near them, and she even sings to them when she's out on the trail.” Craig steered the van onto the main road. “It drives me crazy listening to Lindsay singing ‘This Land Is Your Land' at the top of her lungs at every race.”

“Do you use whips?” Nancy asked.

Craig gave her a reassuring smile. “Don't get me wrong. We never beat our dogs. No good musher would mistreat his animals. But we used to do what some of the great Iditarod racers do—we'd crack a whip in the air. It excites the dogs and makes them run faster.”

Craig took a sharp curve on the road, then spoke again. “Lindsay made such a fuss that we stopped using the whips. But Amanda doesn't miss a chance to goad Steve about anything.”

A few minutes later, the van pulled into the Wilcox driveway. A truck Nancy hadn't seen before was parked in front of the porch. John Tilden and a strange man stood on the porch, talking. The man handed John an envelope.

As the van crunched over the driveway, John's head shot up. He quickly unzipped his parka and thrust the envelope inside. The man he was speaking to jumped into the truck and drove away.

Then, without a glance in Nancy and Craig's direction, the butler slipped inside the house.

I
WONDER WHAT
John's hiding now,” Craig muttered angrily.

“What do you mean, ‘now'?” Nancy asked.

Craig flushed slightly. “Nothing. I was just shooting off my mouth.” He opened the door and climbed out of the van.

Nancy wasn't convinced. “Come on, Craig. You must have meant something.”

For a moment, Craig said nothing. Then, as they walked toward the house, he asked, “Have you ever had a feeling that something's just not right?”

“Sure,” Nancy said.

“Well, that's the way I feel about John. I can't put my finger on it, but something's
wrong about him. For one thing, he hasn't been with the Wilcoxes very long, and he won't say where he was before that.”

Nancy was thoughtful. It wouldn't hurt to ask Henry Wilcox a few questions about his butler.

• • •

“Dogsledding is the most exciting thing I've ever tried,” George announced at dinner that night.

“It's a truly Alaskan hobby,” Henry Wilcox said, emphasizing the word
hobby.
Nancy saw Steve roll his eyes.

“Well, all I know is, it was wonderful!” George said. Her eyes glowed with enthusiasm, and Steve grinned at her.

“Maybe now you'll agree to stay after Nancy and Mr. Drew leave,” he suggested.

Carson looked down the table at Henry. “I wish we could spend more than a week here.”

“So do I,” Henry said, “but I have to admit that my motives are selfish. Now that I have the police breathing down my neck, I'm hoping Nancy will uncover something.” He turned to Nancy, his expression serious. “How are you doing with the investigation?”

Nancy shook her head slowly, wishing she had better news. “Not too well, so far.” She told them about the second shipment of ivory she had discovered, leaving out the part about
the intruder who had turned out the lights. “I've got a couple of leads to check tomorrow when businesses are open again. I want to look at some of the shipping records, too,” she concluded.

“I'll have everything ready for you. I hope it helps.” Henry looked grim. “The police are giving me only two more days before they break the news to the press. I guess I've been lucky that they agreed to keep it quiet this long.”

“You know, they don't have any real evidence against you,” Carson said.

“That's what I like,” Henry said with a smile that looked forced. “A vote of confidence.”

“Henry, there's no way the charges against you will hold up,” Craig said firmly. “They're ridiculous. I'm sure the police will catch the real culprit soon. Now, what can we do to make sure these people enjoy Alaska while they're here?”

“Do you think we'll get to see the northern lights?” Nancy asked, taking his cue and changing the subject.

“Well, it's not the best time of year, but there's still a pretty good chance,” Craig answered, reaching for more roast beef.

“If you do, be sure to whistle,” Steve said.

“Whistle? Why?” George looked puzzled.

“It's an old Eskimo legend,” Craig explained.
“If you whistle, the lights will dance faster.”

“Dancing lights—now I've really got to see them,” George said.

Nancy was intrigued. “Where did you hear this legend?”

“My grandpa used to spend time in the Inuit villages when he was trapping and trading,” Craig explained. “He learned a lot from the people, and not just stories about the northern lights.”

When dinner was over, Nancy suggested they all go outside to look for the northern lights.

“Sorry,” Steve said, “but I've had enough exercise for one day. I'm beat!”

“Better count me out, too,” Craig said.

“Wimps,” Nancy teased. She and George grabbed their heavy coats out of the foyer closet, then went outside.

Nancy looked up at the sky. It was a clear, moonless night. “Let's get away from the house lights,” she suggested. “We'll be able to see better.”

They walked for a few minutes until they were in the forest. It was completely dark and bitterly cold. Nancy could feel the breath freezing in her nostrils.

“Will we know the northern lights if we see them?” George asked.

“I don't think we'll be able to miss them.”

They continued walking, clutching each other's mittened hands so they wouldn't get separated in the darkness, but they saw nothing. They were almost ready to call it quits when it happened.

They came to a clearing, and Nancy gasped in wonder. Bands of blue and green shot across the sky, followed by brilliant reds and yellows that seemed so close Nancy almost reached out to try to touch them.

“Whistle!” she said to George.

Both of them pursed their lips and began to whistle. The colored bands pulsed and shifted. George let out a laugh of pure delight. The lights really did seem to dance in time with the whistling!

Gradually the display began to fade. When the last light had dimmed, George said softly, “That was great.”

A grin spread across Nancy's face. “I'll never, ever forget it.”

She and George were quiet as they walked back to the house, awed by the incredible natural spectacle they'd just seen. It was only when they were out of the forest that George spoke again.

“I'm so glad you asked me to come to Alaska with you,” she said. “Not just because of the northern lights, either.” She was silent for a moment. Nancy sensed her hesitation.

“I really like Steve,” George said finally. “He's a lot of fun.”

Nancy's reply was sincere. “I'm glad for you, George. Steve seems to like you, too.”

“But not
you,”
George said, voicing Nancy's unspoken thoughts.

“You could say that,” Nancy said mildly.

George stopped and faced Nancy. “It bothers me, Nan. I don't think Steve's normally so rude—I don't think I could like him as much if he was really like that. This afternoon I asked him why he's so cold to you, but he wouldn't give me a reason. He said I was imagining it.”